Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (46 page)

“Sounds like you've got all the bases covered. I was going to see if I could call in some agents if you didn't have men to spare.”

“This case is our number-one priority right now. We'll do what needs to be done.” Grayson recognized the sincerity and determination in Andrews's tone.

“I know you will.” Grayson cast a glance at Laney. “And by the way, this wasn't a random break-in. He had a piece of paper with Laney's address folded up in his pocket.”

“He's as good as he's gonna get, Chief, but his eyes are still a little swollen shut.” The officer grabbed the suspect by the arm, yanking him toward the kitchen table. Grayson took a good look at the suspect. The officer was right. The perp's eyes were red and irritated. The mace had done a job on him. The punch he'd taken to the face hadn't helped, either.

Grayson stood up, grabbing the suspect's other arm and turning him toward Laney. “Do you recognize him?”

Laney shook her head. Sighed.

“No.” She bit her lip, resting her head in the palm of her hand. Grayson could see Laney was as disappointed as he was. If this had been one of the kidnappers, they would have been one step closer to finding Olivia and the other children. Instead, they had another mystery on their hands. Who was this guy, and how was he connected to the case?

“Rose, how about you?” Grayson asked. Rose came around from the kitchen counter, walked right up to the suspect and gave him a once-over.

“He doesn't look familiar.” Rose took one step closer, peering up at the suspect, and Grayson thought he felt the suspect twitch. “Nope. I've never seen him before.”

“Get him out of here,” Andrews said to the uniformed officers.

He then turned back toward Grayson. “What do you make of this, Agent?” Chief Andrews asked.

“It's got to be connected to Olivia's abduction.”

Andrews nodded his agreement. “Can I speak with you in the foyer for a moment?” he asked.

Leaving Laney and Rose in the company of Deputy Chief Wallace, Grayson joined Chief Andrews in the foyer. “Here's what's bothering me about this. There have been a number of home invasions in the surrounding area lately. Same MO—a glass cutter and duct tape have been used to cut a pane of glass from a window so the robber can reach through to open the lock. We've kept the method out of the media.”

Grayson hadn't been aware of that similarity. The implications were not good. He knew this break-in hadn't been random. If it had been, the perp would have aborted when he saw the uniformed officer outside. Besides, the slip of paper with Laney's name and address made it clear that she'd been specifically targeted. But someone obviously wanted the break-in to look like it was connected to the recent home invasions.

Someone with access to law enforcement files.

“I don't like this, Andrews.”

“I know where you're going with this,” Andrews said quietly, “and unfortunately, I'm thinking the same thing. There's a leak somewhere, and whoever it is has access to MPD files.”

“Can you pull the files from the break-in cases? We can review them to see who might have had knowledge of the abduction and shooting tonight.”

“Yeah, I'll do that, but I know every man in the precinct, and I can't think of one who would want Laney hurt.”

Grayson knew Andrews wanted to believe that his men were honorable, but unfortunately, things were not always as they seemed. “You could be right. I'd also like to send a forensic expert down here to triage your computer networks. It's possible that your networks have been hacked—that you have a leak, but it's not from one of your own.”

“Your forensics expert can have full access. I'll let our IT guy know he's to cooperate fully.”

“Thanks. I'll have my laptop triaged, as well.” Even though Grayson hoped the leak wasn't in his own house, the fact remained there
was
a leak—either in the local PD or the FBI—and he had to check out every possibility. He'd kept his suspicions to himself, sharing them only with his supervisor, Michael King, and his friend and mentor, retired FBI profiler Ethan Conrad. Like Grayson, both men were reluctant to believe the leak was in the FBI. But they'd agreed he had to look at all scenarios equally.

“Has anyone taken statements from Laney and Rose?” Andrews inquired.

“Not yet.”

“I'll do that now.”

“Can you step up patrol in the area until sunrise?” Grayson asked. “I'm going to stay here until then if Laney agrees. I've also asked Special Agent in Charge Michael King to authorize FBI protection starting tomorrow.”

“There will be a car on this property until morning, Agent. With two officers,” Andrews stated matter-of-factly, glancing into the kitchen, where Laney and Rose were quietly talking. “There's no way I'm leaving Laney's safety to chance.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Grayson said. And judging from the events of the night, he suspected that keeping Laney and her aunt safely out of trouble might be more of a challenge than Andrews thought.

EIGHT

A
n hour after the police carted the suspect away, Laney sipped a cup of now-cold tea and waited to be asked the same questions another fifty times. She was pretty sure that was how many times she'd already been asked them.

She wasn't annoyed by Kent's thorough interview. She was exhausted. She eyed the police chief as he paced across the room, pivoted and headed her way again.

“So,” he continued, “what you're saying is that—”

“I've never seen the man before. I don't know why he broke into the house. I don't know what he wanted. Aside from the fact I tried to stop a kidnapping, I can't think of any reason why anyone would want to hurt me or my aunt.”

Grayson snorted, and Laney was pretty sure he was trying to hold back a laugh.

He hadn't said much since the interview began, just leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee and eyeing her intently.

She'd tried not to notice.

It had been difficult.

The guy exuded masculinity, confidence, kindness. All the things she'd have wanted in a man if she'd actually wanted a man in her life at all.

“Sorry to keep asking you the same questions, Laney,” Kent said. “But sometimes things become clearer the more we go over them.”

“I think this is all pretty clear,” she responded, standing on legs that felt a little weak and walking to the sink. She washed her cup, set it in the drainer. She felt...done. With the questions, with the interview, with what seemed like an endless night.

She needed to sleep. She wanted to pull the curtains back from the window so she'd be awakened by the sun rising above the trees. Sunrise was always her favorite time of day. It reminded her of new beginnings, second chances.

“I think she's had enough,” Grayson said quietly. No demands. No commands. But there was no doubt he was saying the interview was over.

She almost turned around and told him that she could take care of ending it herself, but she was too tired to protest. The past few years had been tough, digging out of the hole of mourning and guilt, rebuilding her life into something that resembled normal. It had worn her down. So had all the events of the past ten hours.

“I guess I have everything I need. You get some rest, Laney.” Kent patted her shoulder, the gesture a little awkward and rough but strongly sincere.

“I will.” She forced a smile and walked him to the door.

She thought Grayson would leave, too, but he just waited while she said goodbye to Kent, didn't even make a move toward the door as she waited with it open wide. The sky was dark, dawn's glow not yet peeking above the trees.

“You should probably go, too,” she said, and he shook his head.

“I don't think so.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he wants to help me with this crossword puzzle,” Aunt Rose said as she looked up from the dining room table. “I'm stumped, and I've heard that FBI agents are very intelligent.”

“I'm not sure that's true in my case,” Grayson said with a smile. “But I'll be happy to help if I can.”

Laney didn't have the energy to argue with either of them. Shutting the door, she retreated to the family room.

Not only was she exhausted, but her headache was returning, the dull throb making her stomach churn.

She dropped into her grandfather's chair and pulled one of the handmade quilts across her lap and shoulders. Grayson and Rose were discussing which five-letter word best fit Rose's puzzle, and she let her eyes close, let herself drift on the quietness of their voices, the gentle cadence of their conversation.

It felt...nice to have other people in the house. Paws clicked along the wood floor, and she opened her eyes to see Grayson crossing the foyer from the dining room into the family room, Jax and Brody at his heels. The dogs seemed to have taken a liking to the FBI agent.

“It's been quite a night,” he commented as he sat on the couch across from her, the dogs taking their spots on the dog beds in the corner. “How are you holding up?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.” She smiled.

“God was watching out for you and Rose tonight, Laney.” Grayson ran a tanned hand through his hair.

Laney admired his conviction, but it was one she had a hard time sharing. She'd gone to Sunday school every Sunday as a child, had prayed every night for her mother to get better. To be stronger. To leave her father. And every day those prayers went unanswered. As she'd gotten older, she'd stopped praying and started acting. She'd had to rely on her own ingenuity and street smarts to protect them both from her father.

“We definitely got lucky,” she agreed.

“I don't believe in luck. Everything happens for a reason. The good and the bad. All the events of our lives, big and small, shape us into who we are. Prepare us for our purpose.” He fingered the scar over his brow absently, and Laney again wondered how he'd gotten it. It was definitely an old scar, its jagged ridges faded. It didn't detract from his good looks, but rather gave his face more strength of character. He looked real. Not like some politician, musician, or model. Like a man who would risk his life for what he believed in.

“I hope you're right,” she said, because she wanted to believe the way he did. She wanted to think that everything she'd been through had brought her to the place she was supposed to be. That was hard, though, with the weight of guilt on her shoulders, the sorrow heavy in her heart.

“I'm going to bed.” Rose announced, standing on threshold of the foyer and the dining room. “A good night's sleep is important to keep the mind sharp.”

“Good night, Rose.” Grayson remained seated on the couch.

“I need to get some sleep, too,” Laney admitted with a yawn. She hoped he would pick up on her not-so-subtle hint as she headed toward the foyer to let him out. “I guess we'll see you in a few hours, then...”

“I'm not leaving.” Grayson's voice was firm.

“I'm afraid I have only one spare room, and Rose is using it.”

“I'll be fine on the couch. The sun will be up in a few hours, and I'd just as soon keep watch on the house until that happens.”

“Well, I personally think that's a good idea,” Rose interjected. “I'm a little too tired to take on another intruder tonight—plus my can of mace is depleted. I'll get the blankets and the extra pillows.” Without waiting for Laney's response, Rose headed down the hall.

“Well, then, I guess it's settled,” Laney agreed, not wanting to admit, even to herself, that she felt better knowing Grayson would be down the hall. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go grab the pillows from the top shelf before Aunt Rose takes it upon herself to get on the stepladder—we definitely don't need another trip to the emergency room tonight.”

* * *

Grayson woke with a start.

He was up and on his feet in seconds, the pile of blankets Rose had given him falling to the floor. No sign of any danger, and the dogs weren't barking.

Something clanged in the kitchen. A pan or pot, maybe.

He thought it might be Rose, and he went to join her, stopping short when he spotted Laney standing at the sink. The early-morning sun cast gold and amber highlights through her silky hair as she put on the coffee and popped an English muffin into the toaster. Jax and Brody acknowledged him with brief glances, then continued sitting patiently by the counter, watching Laney's every move.

“Good morning.”

Though he spoke softly, Laney gasped and turned toward him, clearly startled.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's not your fault. I was lost in my thoughts. I guess I'm a little on edge, that's all.” She grabbed two dog bowls and a bag of food from the pantry. “Would you like a muffin or some coffee? I've just put on a pot,” she asked while preparing the dogs' food.

“A cup of coffee would be great. And I'd like to grab a quick shower later this morning if you don't mind.”

“Of course. Fresh towels and soap are under the cabinet in the hall bathroom. Unfortunately, I don't have any clean clothes that would fit you...”

“I keep spare clothes in a duffel in my car.”

“Then you're all set. And feel free to help yourself to anything you need from the visitor kit I keep in the bathroom. Sometimes clients will stay overnight when they drop their dogs off, and I like to be prepared.”

“That's not a surprise.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you seem like the kind of person who prefers to have a plan in place.”

“This from the guy that keeps spare clothes in a duffel in his car?” she retorted, placing the dogs' bowls down by the sliding glass door. Neither dog moved from its spot. Eyes trained on Laney, they watched as she crossed the room to the coffeepot and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.

She glanced at the dogs. “Break,” she commanded, and both went for their food.

“They're really well-behaved,” he commented.

“Dogs need to understand their boundaries and limitations. Consistency in reinforcing those things is the key.” She poured coffee into the mugs. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. Dressed in beige tactical pants, work boots and a white, long-sleeved T-shirt with the Wagging Tails Boarding and Training logo on it, it was clear she was ready to work. “Heading out to take care of the dogs?”

“It's what I do.”

“Not without an escort.”

“You're welcome to come along, but I've got some training to do, so I may be a while.”

“How long have you been a dog trainer?”

“Professionally, since I was about nineteen—it helped pay my college living expenses—but I've been training dogs since I was eleven. I picked it up from my grandfather. He's the one who started this training facility. He mostly trained police dogs for protection work and drug sniffing back then. Some of my best childhood moments were spent in the kennels with the dogs.” Her smile lit her eyes. “But then, what kid wouldn't like playing with dogs all day?”

She pulled her hair up in a ponytail, tying it off with an elastic band she'd worn around her wrist. She wore no makeup, the bruise at her jawline now a bluish green; the end of the red, jagged bullet wound and one staple were clearly visible at her temple near her hairline, but none of it detracted from her quiet beauty. She had an inner strength and calmness about her that he was sure was part of her success as a dog trainer. Grayson had always believed dogs to be perceptive about people's character and moods.

“I've got to head out. My staff will be here by eight to help open the kennels, and I have a potential new client coming at nine for a puppy evaluation—it should be interesting because I've never worked with a Leonberger before. Her name is Maxine.”

Grayson had never even
heard
of a Leonberger. “Do we have time for me to grab my laptop? I've got some case files I want to go over.”

“Can you do it in two minutes?”

“It's out in my car. I can do it sixty seconds.”

“Challenge on,” she responded, lifting her wrist and staring at her watch.

He made it back with the laptop in fifty seconds, because he was pretty sure she wouldn't wait the entire sixty.

She was still in the kitchen, the sunlight still playing in her hair.

He thought he'd like to see her outdoors, working with her dogs, doing what she did best.

And that wasn't a good thought to be having about his key witness.

“So what are you planning to tell your staff about your injuries?” he asked, because he needed to get his mind back on protecting Laney. Even though it seemed certain her connection to the case had been leaked, he still thought it wise to downplay her involvement, to keep the reason for her injuries quiet.

“I think explaining your presence, and that of the patrol car, could be just as difficult, actually. What would you suggest?”

“For now, let's blame your injuries and police protection on the break-in and call me an old friend.”

“We can try it, but I'm not good at subterfuge. If they start asking questions, that story will fall apart quickly.”

“Well, I guess you'll have to keep them too busy to ask questions.”

“That part probably won't be much of a problem.” She opened the sliding glass door, letting the dogs out into the yard.

Grayson followed Laney to the kennels, where she busied herself filling water bowls with a two-gallon jug. She had released most of the dogs, about fifteen in all, into a fenced enclosure in the center of the kennel that appeared to be an indoor training area. The morning quiet was now broken with lots of barking, yapping, jumping and running around. He noticed one dog, a large Rottweiler, remained in its enclosure. “What's wrong with that one?” he asked out of curiosity.

“He's here as a board-and-train. He's a rescue, but he's dog-aggressive and hard to control on walks. He's improved since he's been here, but I don't trust him to play unsupervised yet.”

“That's too bad.”

“He's young, and he's smart. His new owners love him. He'll have a happy ending.” She smiled.

A door opened at the back of the facility. A girl, about fifteen, came out, hands filled with two buckets overflowing with metal dog bowls. An older teen boy was behind her, pushing a cart piled high with dog food.

“Guys, I'd like you to meet Grayson DeMarco. He's an old friend. Grayson, this is Riley Strong and Bria Hopewell, my staff.”

Riley stepped out from behind the cart, extending a hand to Grayson. “Nice to meet you,” he said, pumping Grayson's hand just a little harder than socially acceptable. Not at all threatened by Riley's obvious territorial gesture, Grayson smiled.